


tête-à-tête

by AnonyMouseHatesCaptcha



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 00:34:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonyMouseHatesCaptcha/pseuds/AnonyMouseHatesCaptcha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moriarty and Mycroft have an eye to eye inside an interrogation chamber. Warnings: Allusions to torture and sexual assault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tête-à-tête

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt at the kinkmeme asked for Moriarty being sexually aggressive. I obliged. Original prompt can be found here http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/15638.html?thread=86098198#t86098198

The heavy door beeped loudly before creaking open ominously, the sound deafening in the stark silence of the chamber. The pitter patter of approaching footsteps followed close behind. A tall man wearing a blank expression and an expensive three piece suit stepped into the cell, accompanied by a second man who remained standing guard by the door. For the first time in twenty seven days, the prisoner allowed a small change of expression to pass over his features. A smile fleetingly pulled at the corner of his lips, but the prisoner did not turn around. Eyes still firmly shut; he greeted his guest, "Hello, Mycroft".

The prisoner's face was oily with old sweat. His eyes were puffy and bruised with exhaustion. He hasn't been allowed to sleep in days, nor was he allowed to wash since being taken into custody several weeks prior – the occasional water boarding session not withstanding. And yet there he sat, not a single tremor or a twitch of fear evident in him. His hands were handcuffed to the back of his chair, arms pulled awkwardly behind his back. He pulled on the chain, rattling the cuffs slightly. "Do you mind?"

Mycroft nodded to the guard, who stepped forward to unlock the cuffs, before resuming his position by the door, hand resting meaningfully against his hip, the outline of the weapon just visible behind his suit jacket. The prisoner shifted in his seat, rubbing his numbed hands back to life and sighing deeply. His fingernails were still bleeding, a few missing altogether. 

Mycroft walked around the prisoner, and pulled a second chair before sitting down to face the prisoner. He regarded the man before him coolly. "Mr. Moriarty".

The prisoner's eyes snapped open, "Please. Call me Jim, Mycroft, my dear. I'm hurt." He twisted his features into an expression of mock offense before groaning, "Here I was, thinking we have a special something between us, you and me." Moriarty abruptly leaned forward in his seat, causing the armed man by the door to twitch. "Did you enjoy the show? I know you were watching. Kinky." His eyes slide upward, thoughtfully, "a little too much foreplay for my tastes. I'll admit, though, your dogs were _very_ enthusiastic." His tongue flickered out, snake-like. "I wouldn't mind a repeat, given the right company." 

"Yes, very amusing". Mycroft Holmes glanced at his wrist watch. "I was told you finally have something to say." Mycroft's smile did not reach his eyes, "Something that you will only say to me. I'm a very busy man, _Jim_. If you would be so kind to hurry it up."

"Oh, no, no, no, no, _no_!" the prisoner bared his teeth, suddenly furious. He huffed in annoyance. "Mycroft, _love_ , are you new? That's not how it works." Moriarty's ever so changeable face shifted again, a mild mask back in place. He looked as if he didn't know if he should be happy or upset.

"Name your price."

"Good, very good. A little bit of give and take, hmm?" The man leaned back in his seat, "do you like what I've done with the place?" He gestured with one bloodied hand to the walls surrounding them, where a single name has been scratched into the concrete repeatedly. "I tried to make it a little more homely, you understand."

Mycroft did not waver, "Mr. Moriarty, I came here because I understood you wanted to speak to me and only to me. We both know you don't care much about loyalties to your… clients, and I must assume you are as bored as I am by this little charade. Let's cut to the point, shall we? Name your price, and I will consider your proposition. Let's start with what you have for me."

Moriarty leaned closer to his interrogator until their faces were inches apart. Mycroft's eyes narrowed at the close proximity, but he stayed rooted in his place.

"I've got a secret to tell." The master criminal stage whispered, his breath brushing Mycroft's face.

"Oh?"

The prisoner giggled. High pitched and a little bit hysterical. "You show me yours, and I'll show you mineee." The last word was said in a high, sing-song voice. The prisoner sniffed suddenly, nose nuzzling the other's cheek and this time Mycroft did flinch back.

Moriarty pulled back in his seat. He stretched his neck; body suddenly animated and radiating total delight at the momentary slip in the other's man's calm mask. He exhaled slowly and smiled, eyes fluttering shut. "Your brother looks beautiful when he sleeps."

"Excuse me?" an edge of steel in that voice now.

"Now, now, cupcake. No need to get jealous. You know I'm all yours." The man hummed, smiling dreaming when he recalled what looked to be a very pleasant memory. "You should really work on screening your surveillance team better, Mycroft my dear, they are so easy to bypass. I mean, it could have been just anyone slipping into that flat, and then where would you be?" he shook his head, "he's so lovely, your little brother, and such a heavy sleeper!" His tongue darted out to lick at his lower lip. "Mmmm… Such a ripe little tart. You can't blame a man for looking, when he flaunts it like that. Why, if I didn't know any better… All that white flesh wrapped up in a sheet like a Christmas present. Like a Christmas _feast_. Uhh, to sink my teeth into that neck!" He purred at the thought. "Did you know he sleeps in the nude?" A pause. "I peeked."

"Enough!" Mycroft rose from his seat, his face no longer a blank mask of indifference. "Mr. Moriarty, I have been very patient with you, but our time is running out. These games are pointless." He towered over the seated man, " _give me the code_."

Moriarty smiled, his laugh lines deepening as if Mycroft did something very precious indeed. "In a minute, every door in this facility that's not made out of _wood_ is going to be opened. That's not a metaphor, mind." He looked up at Mycroft through lowered eyelashes. "You and I both know that sooner or later, I'll be walking out of this cage. After all your effort, maybe you'd like something to show for it? A little something to fetch for your masters, hmm? What do you say?" He murmured, "Make Britain a little bit safer?"

Right on cue, a sudden beeping sound filled the room, signaling the door becoming unlocked. In the distance, the cell occupants could hear multiple beeps echoing throughout the complex simultaneously, doors unlocking in much the same way. Mycroft glanced at the one way mirror, briefly meeting the eyes of someone unseen.

A man appeared in the doorway moments later, and nodded his reply to Mycroft, grimacing while doing so.

Moriarty grinned, whole face lit up. He rose from his seat, stretching his limbs slowly in an almost feline display, back arching as he sighed. The armed guard advanced toward him, only to be halted by a single look from his boss. Moriarty grinned. "Oh, that's hot. At least you have this one trained. Is he house broken as well?" He turned his attention toward the silent man, who glowered at him in return.

Mycroft sighed, "Allow me to repeat, I hope for the last time: name your price."

"I think you already know what I want, Mr. Holmes." The criminal turned to the opposite wall in order to admire his 'artwork'. "Don't you?" his finger caressed a carved 'S' almost lovingly.

"Unacceptable."

"Oh, don't be like that. I wasn't asking to pop his cherry." Moriarty turned and made an obscene little wriggle with his tongue. "But if you're selling…"

"Ask for something reasonable." Mycroft sat back in his chair, crossing his long legs. The prisoner circled him with predatory intent, but Mycroft wasn't worried. Causing Mycroft any physical harm would serve no purpose in his little game.

He willed himself to stillness when hands came to rest on his shoulders, messaging the tense muscles through the elegant fabric. "I want you to tell me about Sherlock." A breathy voice whispered in his ear.

The physical contact lasted mere seconds before the owner of the voice was hauled back into his seat by the scowling guard. Moriarty chuckled maniacally, extending his palms outward in a peace offering before straightening in his seat. The guard resumed his regular position by the door, glaring intently at the prisoner.

Mycroft let a few moments pass in silence before saying quietly," Are you quite done with the theatrics, Mr. Moriarty?" Mycroft's voice was calm and steady, but Moriarty only grinned wider at the sound.

"'Tell me about Sherlock'? What did you mean?" Mycroft said.

"Don't worry, Mycroft, dear." The man replied. "I am not asking you to sell out your baby brother for thirty pieces of silver. Do you really think I would ask you to make a choice between your duties to your country and to own flesh and blood?" Moriarty clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Shame on you, Mycroft Holmes, what sort of man do you think I am?"

"Then what is it?"

"I just want to get to know Sherlock. All I want is the little details, nothing of importance in the grand scale of things." Moriarty leaned forward in his seat, hands gripping his own knees fiercely. "Nothing that would make you feel dirty in revealing. In fact, you'll decide exactly what tales to tell." 

"And what will I get in exchange?"

Moriarty smiled. "Information."

"What kind of information, Mr. Moriarty?"

"Oh, like I said, I have a secret. Well, I have lots of secrets. Secrets that don't belong to me, you see? As you do." His voice turned a little breathy, Mycroft had to strain his ears to hear him. "I want to know… All about him. There's no one who knows him quite like you, Mycroft Holmes. Not even his fluffy little doctor. Let's just talk. I'll show you mine if you show me yours, remember?" Moriarty tilted his head, "I won't lie. I promise you that. You'll know if I'm lying, won't you, my sweet?"

"And do you think you can say the same?" Mycroft said, raising his brow. 

"Oh, I know so." Moriarty smiled brightly. "I can read you like a book, Mycroft Holmes."

"Is that so?"

"Why don't we try and find out?" the prisoner purred. "Oh, and just one more thing… I want us to talk alone." his pleased expression morphed into something furious. He turned to the guard still holding his fort by the door. "You. Get out." He snarled.

The guard made no move to exit the room. Moriarty turned to Mycroft, looking at him expectantly. 

Mycroft steepled his fingers in thought, lips pursed slightly. Then, without turning to the guard, he made his decision known: "Do it."

"Sir?"

"You heard the man. Run along." Moriarty grinned, twirling his fingers in the at the direction of the door. 

The guard did not acknowledge the prisoner. Instead he turned to his superior. "Sir, I have to insist – "

"Yes, your concerns are duly noted. Now leave." When the guard hesitantly shut the cell door closed behind him, Mycroft spoke again. "I hope there was a point to all of this?"

"I simply wanted you all to myself, my dear." He leered. "Now, shall we begin?


End file.
